I, Flamme, Will Turn Aura into the Most Fearsome Demon in History

The clash between Flamme and Schlacht ignited like a sudden storm—swift, fierce, and chaotic. Lightning and fire danced in the air, the earth trembled beneath the weight of their unleashed power, and the Greater Demons surrounding them roared with unrestrained bloodlust.

Flamme, staff in hand, moved with the precision of a seasoned mage, her magic weaving intricate layers of defense and offense. Each strike was calculated, deliberate, aimed to exploit Schlacht's openings.

Schlacht, however, was unlike any opponent she had faced. His every movement fluid, almost effortless. His foresight magic made him maddeningly difficult to predict, as though he were reacting to attacks before they were even cast.

"Rain of Fire: Feuerbrennen!" Flamme unleashed a barrage of fireballs, each one laced with hidden traps.

Schlacht's gaze flicked to the incoming magic. He raised a hand, summoning a barrier of shimmering black mana. The fireballs detonated against it harmlessly, but he hesitated, his brow furrowing as though uncertain.

Flamme smirked in her mind. 'Good. You don't know which ones are real threats and which ones aren't.'

She launched another wave of attacks, this time mixing in illusory spells to further cloud his foresight. Schlacht dodged some, deflected others, but his movements were no longer seamless. A flicker of frustration crossed his face as one of the traps triggered, sending shards of ice slicing across his arm.

Their exchange continued, a deadly dance of magic and will. The Greater Demons joined the fray, launching coordinated attacks to support Schlacht. Flamme raised a barrier to shield herself, their combined spells hammering against it with relentless force.

Then, midway through the battle, something changed.

Schlacht's movements slowed. His eyes froze, his gaze growing vacant as though he were staring at something far beyond the present moment. For a fleeting second, his expression softened—almost imperceptibly—but it was there.

Flamme noticed.

'What is he seeing?' she wondered, her instincts screaming that something was off.

Before she could press her advantage, Schlacht snapped back to reality. His eyes regained their sharpness, and he barked an order to his subordinates. "Retreat. Now."

The demons hesitated, clearly unwilling to abandon the fight, but Schlacht's voice carried an authority that brooked no argument. "I said retreat!"

The Greater Demons broke off their assault, leaving behind the bodies of their fallen comrades. Flamme watched as they unleashed a coordinated surge of magic—fire, ice, lightning, and poison—all aimed directly at her.

The onslaught struck her barrier with enough force to shake the ground, obscuring the area in a cloud of dust and debris. Flamme gritted her teeth, reinforcing the barrier as cracks began to spiderweb across its surface.

When the storm of magic subsided, the demons were gone.

Flamme dispelled her barrier, coughing slightly as the dust settled around her. She scanned the area, her sharp eyes searching for any lingering presences, but the forest had fallen silent.

"They retreated?" she muttered, her voice laced with disbelief. "Didn't fight me to the death?"

Her thoughts returned to Schlacht's expression—the momentary vacancy in his gaze, the way his resolve had shifted so suddenly.

'What did he see?' she wondered again, her grip on her staff tightening.

Turning her attention skyward, Flamme closed her eyes and focused her senses. She could still feel the faint trace of the anti-magic seal she had placed on Aura, though it had weakened significantly. Tracking it now required intense concentration, but the fact that it still lingered meant one thing:

This meant that Aura's life was not in danger.

"Does that mean the demons have given up on killing Aura?"

Her mind raced as she tried to piece together the puzzle. Schlacht's retreat, his strange behavior, the timing of the ambush—it all felt deliberate, but to what end?

One thing was clear: this encounter had given Flamme a deeper understanding of Schlacht's foresight magic.

During the battle, he had relied heavily on his ability to anticipate her moves, but Flamme had deliberately thrown unpredictability into the mix. By using disguise spells, some with hidden traps and others without, she had created layers of uncertainty.

Sometimes Schlacht defended against spells that posed no threat. Other times, he failed to notice the traps she had concealed.

Flamme smirked to herself. 'So his foresight isn't perfect after all. He don't see a single, unchangeable future—he see possibilities.'

'He's not omniscient. He's a strategist, sifting through countless futures to find the one he thinks is most likely.'

But Flamme's unpredictability had overloaded him. By multiplying the possible outcomes, she had disrupted his ability to react effectively.

Even so, Schlacht had retreated before she could press her advantage.

"This can be exploited."

"Aura, I've thought of a way to protect you from the demons!"

If her assumptions were correct—and she believed they were—she could pull this off. Even against the Omniscient Schlacht, who wielded foresight magic so potent it was said to span millennia, she could deceive him.

Her pulse quickened. The sheer audacity of the plan was exhilarating.

'His magic is not without flaw,' she thought, her mind racing. 'His foresight only shows possibilities—outcomes shaped by present decisions. If I can manipulate what he sees, if I can reshape those possibilities…'

Her lips curled into a determined smile. All she needed was patience. Enough hidden traps, carefully laid over time. Enough subtle manipulations to rewrite the perception of this era in the annals of history.

'Aura will become something even Schlacht can't predict,' she mused. 'Not just a demon to be hunted, but an idea. A symbol. The most fearsome demon in history.'

Flamme clenched her fist, her knuckles whitening. "That's how I'll do it!"

The thought of her own mortality flickered briefly in her mind, but she pushed it aside. What did it matter if her life was short? As long as she could cement her teacher Aura's survival, she would accept whatever price needed to be paid.

Raising her staff to align with the setting sun, Flamme's expression grew solemn and determined as she silently made a vow.

—She would transform Aura into the most fearsome demon in history. A demon who posed the greatest threat to humanity, one whose name would forever terrify the world!

——————

Morlei City

The town of Morlei sat precariously on the borderlands of human and demon territories, a place where the looming specter of war was felt in every corner, even if the actual fighting had not yet reached its streets.

Merchants haggled with muted urgency in the market square, their voices tinged with the unease of a populace living under the shadow of potential annihilation. Farmers carted in their produce, glancing nervously at the soldiers patrolling the city gates. Children played in alleyways, their laughter strained, their games often imitating battles between human mages and demons.

On the streets, the air buzzed with conversation, and the topic was almost always the same: the war.

"They say the demons are using new kinds of attack magic," muttered a blacksmith to his apprentice, his hands busy hammering a dented breastplate. "Spells that turn entire regiments to ash in seconds."

"I heard the Continental Magic Association sent three First-Class Mages to the front lines," the apprentice replied, his voice a mix of awe and anxiety. "Do you think they can stop the demons?"

Others spoke of politics from the inland cities, their words carrying a sharper edge.

"The election for the Continental Magic Association's president is just a farce," a merchant grumbled to his customer as he weighed sacks of grain. "President Zanze only been reappointed because of the war. The council would rather stick with the devil they know."

"President Zanze's no devil," the customer replied with a shrug. "She's just pragmatic. What we need right now is stability, not change. The demons won't wait while we bicker over leadership."

Eventually, the townsfolk's conversations shifted from war and politics to local gossip.

"Did you hear? A white-haired elven mage has come to our town," a man whispered to his friend as they sat outside the tavern, nursing their drinks.

The other man blinked in disbelief, then shook his head. "Elves? I haven't seen any. Only heard about them in those fairy tales my grandmother used to tell when I was a child. I thought they were nothing more than stories to scare children. But if it's true, then… I guess they really exist." His voice trailed off, his eyes wide with wonder. "Elves haven't been seen around here for decades—probably more than fifty years. I didn't even think there were any left."

A woman passing by overheard and joined in, her voice full of curiosity. "You haven't heard? That white-haired elf is no ordinary elf. She's crossed the battlefield between humans and demons, and traveled across the lands. She's made quite a stir wherever she's gone, and even the city defense troops were urgently called back when she came into town."

"Called back? For an elf?" The first man looked skeptical, furrowing his brow. "Why would they mobilize the military for an elf? We've got soldiers fighting at the frontlines. The nobles must be out of their minds to make such a decision."

The woman's eyes gleamed with knowledge, her voice lowering to a conspiratorial whisper. "Oh, don't be so hasty. There was a military-issued warrant for her, you know. Said she was colluding with demons and ordered her to be killed on sight. But then—" She paused, casting a furtive glance around as if checking if anyone was listening. "Some high-ranking official from the Magic Association vouched for her, and the warrant was mysteriously revoked. But mark my words—many are still keeping an eye on her, even if they don't say it outright."

The first man frowned, his curiosity piqued. "Colluding with demons, huh? Did she do anything… significant to back up those claims?"

"No, nothing I've heard of," the woman replied, shaking her head. "I haven't heard any news about her causing trouble—at least not yet. But she's been keeping to herself, they say."

"That's good," another voice chimed in from behind them, a man with graying hair who had been listening intently. "So long as she doesn't stir up trouble here in our town, I say let her be. We've got enough problems with the war already."

The first man scratched his chin, musing aloud. "Yeah, I agree… But what about the war? When will it end? A year? Ten years?"

"Ten years?" The second man scoffed. "Try a thousand! The war never really ends, you know. It's just paused now. A temporary break. Until the demons learn to understand us, it'll never truly end."

The first man's face darkened. "Understand us? Isn't that impossible?"

"Impossible?" The second man raised an eyebrow, looking almost amused. "Yes, it is. The war will never end."

A heavy silence settled over the group, and the conversation slowly drifted off as the weight of their words hung in the air. The town had grown weary of the endless conflict. Yet in their hearts, they knew there was little they could do to change the course of history.

As the conversations murmured on, Frieren walked quietly past the group, her presence almost unnoticed in the hustle of the town square. Her hood was low, and her cloak kept most of her features hidden, but her white hair and pointed ears were unmistakable when the wind ruffled her cloak just enough to reveal them.

She moved without attracting attention, stepping lightly toward the town's guild office. As she entered, the air seemed to shift. The receptionist, a young woman with a stern look, glanced up at the newcomer. Her gaze lingered when Frieren took off her hood, revealing the elven features. The receptionist's expression shifted between surprise and wariness. But after a moment, she cleared her throat and went through the usual motions of verifying Frieren's work.

"I've brought some medicinal herbs and a report on the monsters near the old forest," Frieren said, her voice calm but distant. She placed the items on the counter with practiced ease.

The receptionist took the report and examined it, her brow furrowing. After a brief pause, she nodded. "Seems all in order. Here's your reward." She handed over a small pouch of copper coins.

Frieren accepted the coins without a word. It was a meager sum, just enough to cover her next meal, maybe a night in a cold bed if she was lucky. But it was enough.

"Thank you," Frieren murmured, her gaze already shifting toward the door.

She didn't linger in the guild office. There were no jobs here that paid enough to make a difference. No, she had more important things to do. As she stepped back onto the cobbled streets, she wrapped her cloak tighter around herself, blending into the crowd, keeping her thoughts private.

'Just more information to gather,' she thought to herself. 'More about her.'

The townspeople's murmurs barely registered to her anymore. They whispered about her, but she had long since stopped being surprised. They saw her as a curious relic, a figure from old stories, a white-haired elf trying to survive in a world where she no longer belonged.

She wasn't human, but she understood humans enough to fit in. She never stole, never caused trouble. When there was no money for a room, she found shelter in the alleyways or curled up under the eaves of buildings. No one ever bothered her.

Occasionally, an elderly person would see her resting in the streets, their eyes softening with sympathy. If they had an empty room in their house, they might invite her in for the night, offering her warmth and food out of kindness, though it was always short-lived. Tomorrow, she'd be back on the road again, wandering, always in search of knowledge about a certain demon.